


21 June, 2017

by riyku



Series: Skam Sunday [7]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 18:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: Even'sflirting, and it should be ridiculous, extraneous at this point, when they already share a bed, an electricity bill, a thousand secrets and occasionally underwear.





	21 June, 2017

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the sappiest thing i've ever put down on paper. it's almost embarrassing, the sheer amount of sap. i blame the Even day we were gifted. i also blame tebtosca, who is likewise such a gift.
> 
> set a few minutes after Even sends Isak the text at 21:21 the night of his birthday party.

Isak crosses to where Even's sitting and holds his hand out, pulls Even to his feet and whispers, "It's time to go."

A kiss to the corner of Isak's mouth. A nuzzle into his neck. Their hips line up exactly right and yeah, turns out Even hadn't been lying when he said he was hard.

"But it's your birthday party," Even reminds him again, that deep voice of his rumbling directly in Isak's ear. He begins swaying some, hands finding Isak's hips and Isak is not gonna dance with him right here. Not now. Not in front of everyone, not when there isn't even any music playing.

"Exactly. I can do what I want," Isak replies, aware of how bratty it makes him sound. Also aware of how that kinda talk can sometimes flip a switch in Even, make him run hot. He gets caught up in Even's slow, back and forth movement, arms around Even's neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Whatever. It's still not dancing. 

"What do you want?" Even's grip on his waist is getting stronger, fingers digging in deep, the press of his hips more forceful than before, carrying more intent. 

"You." Isak grinds into him, gets off on the way it makes the color rise on Even's face, how he holds on even tighter and twists his hips, slow and sinuous, and okay, fuck it. Maybe they are dancing now, just a little.

A few of their friends wave, smile, and nobody calls them out on it as they leave before everyone else, Even's arm around Isak's shoulders and Isak's hand in Even's back pocket.

\- - -

Even is sitting beside Isak on the bus and he's still texting him. Hearts, rockets, rainbows and fireworks, shit he's found on the internet. His lips are pursed like he's trying not to grin, and he's shooting small glances in Isak's direction, letting himself lean heavily into Isak whenever the bus takes a turn. He's _flirting_ and it should be ridiculous, extraneous at this point, when they already share a bed, an electricity bill, a thousand secrets and occasionally underwear. A life that's messy and wonderful. Scary and solid and filled with so much joy.

"Almost home," Even says, and lays his arm across Isak's shoulders. His bony hip pokes into Isak's side, their thighs overlap and he smells like woodsmoke, and Isak knows there's nothing almost about it. He's already there.

\- - -

"Give me two minutes." Even's fiddling with the sticky deadbolt, opening the door only wide enough to wriggle inside, kisses his fingers then presses them to Isak's mouth before leaving him to wait in the hallway.

Through the thin walls, Isak can hear him rushing around their place, tries to track his path while he waits, picture it in his head. There's a beat of blaring music before Even turns it down, more footsteps heading toward the kitchen. Something falls over, then Even is back at the door, looking a little sheepish and shy and heartbreakingly hopeful.

Isak sneaks past him, slows down and looks around as Even wraps his arms around him from behind, sneaks his hands under the hem of Isak's shirt, mouth wandering along the back of his neck. The place is actually clean, smells like lavender and the candles Even's scattered here and there. His favorite beer on ice in their one and only mixing bowl definitely beats out fancy champagne and mini-burgers by a long stretch. The ceiling is hidden behind a layer of silver star-shaped balloons and there are dandelions _everywhere._

"I should have gotten roses instead," Even says, as Isak plucks a flower up from the table, spins it between his thumb and first finger by its thin, wilting stem.

"No. These are better. So much better," Isak's quick to tell him, forcing his voice past the shaky thing happening in his throat, the noisy clatter of his heart.

"It. It had to be perfect." Even sorta stutters, but he lights up brighter than a firecracker.

"You're here, so it is." It comes out quiet. Isak wants to say that there's not a day that goes by that Isak isn't amazed by Even. The fact of him. His bravery and strength and impossible kindness. He wants to tell Even that he's the first thing he thinks about in the morning and the last thing he thinks about at night, and most of what he thinks about in between. About how he never believed in fate or destiny before, only possibility, and how all of that changed the moment he laid eyes on him. He wants to say a lot of things, but he doesn't, just rises up onto his tiptoes, buries his hand in Even's hair and kisses him breathless. Licks at Even's mouth and feels more than hears him moan into it.

Even backs him up, stops when they bump into the bed, takes his time pulling Isak's shirt off, then tells him to count as he kisses along his neck, across his chest, the inside of his elbow, which makes Isak laugh and squirm, so he does it again. A bit more tongue as he reaches Isak's stomach, soft and lingering at Isak's waistband while he unhooks his belt then his buttons. Isak falls onto the bed, shifts his hips up to help Even yank his pants down and off, absently jacks himself to the sight of Even stripping. Slender arms and legs bared, all those long stretches of clean, pale skin. He's as mesmerized now as he was the very first time.

Kneeling on the bed, Even kisses number sixteen into Isak's hipbone, number seventeen into the other.

"That was when I met you," Isak says, and makes a space for Even between his legs, sinks into the mattress under the familiar weight and warmth of him.

"That was when you kissed me back," Even says, and the eighteenth kiss is for Isak's mouth, cracked open wide, wet and desperate. His fingers make corkscrews of Isak's hair and his hips are pressing down, heading into an achingly slow roll.

"I love your mouth." Even pries two fingers between Isak's lips, slides them over his tongue, lets Isak suck and lick at them, makes him gag a little. He pulls them out, and wraps them around Isak's throat. No pressure, just a presence. "And how you can't hold your breath."

Isak takes him by the wrist, hitches his leg higher around Even's middle, shows him where he wants Even's fingers and shivers as Even circles his rim, pushes in the tiniest amount. 

He nuzzles and licks at Isak's throat, shifts his weight to get a better angle, fingers sliding in further, staying there while Isak eases into the stretch, relaxes and opens himself up more. "I love the way you smell, and how you taste."

"Baby." Isak winds his arm around Even's shoulders, feels the smooth flex of his muscles as he fucks his fingers in deeper.

"I love it when you call me that, even though I shouldn't." Even takes his fingers back, licks them himself this time, eyelids fluttering closed at the taste of Isak. Spits on them then runs his fist up and down the length of his cock. "I love it when you wear my clothes, and how it sometimes makes you smell like me."

Sitting up and resting on his heels, Even goes on, "I love how you never leave me alone, even when it's better for you if you did." He tests the span of Isak's waist with his hands, skips them along his ribs and Isak is struck silent, can only return Even's small, gentle smile, thread their fingers together and hold on so tightly. "I love the way you walk, the sound of your voice, and the things you say in your sleep. I love it when you let me hold your hand."

Isak draws his arms above his head, drags Even along with him, tipping Even's balance and bringing them flush. He curls his legs around Even's hips, arches his spine and feels the tip of Even's cock tease at his rim and wants Even inside of him, so badly his blood is begging for it. But he doesn't dare say a word or interrupt. Even rarely does anything unless it's on purpose. 

"I love your legs when they're wrapped around me." Even moans when Isak rocks his hips, squeezes his thighs together, brings him closer. He grabs his cock at the base, raspy breath as he sinks into Isak and becomes very, very still. "I love the way you feel inside. So hot and tight. Like nothing else."

It's staggering. It's always staggering, the warm pulse of Even inside of him. The perfect, burning ache of it and the overwhelming closeness of him filling Isak up. Even's eyes lose focus on anything that isn't Isak, his hair falls into his face and his mouth drops open, pink tongue sneaking out to lick at Isak's bottom lip. Not at all a kiss, just a taste.

Even starts to move, slow at first, barely-there thrusts that still make Isak see stars, moan into Even's shoulder, rock up to meet him and urge him to go harder, faster.

"Shit. I lost track," Even says, breathless now, their chests growing damp with sweat, stomachs slick with Isak's precome.

"Fourteen," Isak says, and it makes Even skip a beat. "You told me to count."

Even laughs, so free and real and it's the best sound Isak's ever heard. "I love how you always pay attention. And how you're so fucking smart." 

He drives in deeper, worms a hand between them and fists Isak's cock. "I love the face you make when you come." He works Isak faster, knuckles skimming Isak's belly, his grip like a fresh slice of heaven, his cock hitting Isak's sweet spot with every thrust. Isak's pulse goes shocky, heat blasting under his skin as he comes, grappling at Even's back, his arm like a strut, straining against him with his head thrown back, his lips slack. "Yeah," Even says, "that one, and I love it when you hold me so tight I can hardly breathe."

Isak buries his face in Even's sweat-damp hair, whispers into his ear as Even falls apart in his arms. "I love all those things about you, too. Plus three."

\--end

thanks for reading!


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